The Good, The Bad, and The Worst
by devon380black
Summary: "You can't unclench your teeth to howl the way you should", Lydia's thoughts - [4.01 the dark moon]


Lydia drives to Deaton's clinic. Stiles had called her and asked her to come. He hadn't explained, just said that Scott needed to see her.

She checks herself one last time on the mirror of her car. All is well, her make up is flawless, her hair artfully arranged. She nods at her reflection, schooling her face into a blank expression.

Scott opens the door for her before she has a chance to knock.

"Hey, Lydia. Thanks for coming over."

He gives her a small smile while gesturing to the back of the clinic. She can hear Stiles tinkering with glass containers. She nods to Scott and makes her way to Stiles. Distantly, she hears Scott lock the door and follow her.

His pace is slow, a few steps behind her. She wonders how he retained the unassuming gait, footsteps soft and arms and legs not taking up more space than necessary. Never crowding like most guys would in her presence.

There's a small metal cylinder in front of Scott and she can't help but remember the last time she saw something like that; back when they had confronted Peter and he'd asked her to hold on to the claws of Derek's mother and feel something.

She wants to scream at Scott. To scream and cry that the last time she did this, Allison had been there. Allison had been there to protect her.

Brave Allison who believed in her.

She can feel Scott looking at her, hesitation on his brow and worry on his lips. She knows he's worried about Derek and as much as she wants to let go of some things right now and just grieve, she doesn't want to let Derek die too.

They've had enough deaths.

So she grabs the cylinder and shoves her hand in side, fingers digging around for the casings. She holds on to them and tries to concentrate, breathing deep and just trying to empty her mind and feel.

And that's when she sees Derek Hale slumped in front of her, too tired to fight but still alive. There's smoke and gunfire and a distant snarl. The last thing she sees is Derek's shocked face.

* * *

The Calaveras are menacing but Lydia doesn't even flinch. She has survived lots of threats to her life, at the expense of others.

_You see, death doesn't happen to you Lydia, it happens to everyone around you._

Araya Calavera asks her about Scott and she finds herself unable to betray him. Scott is the only link she has to Allison, even though Scott may be moving on. She knows that of all the members of their little pack, save for Isaac who left with Mr. Argent, Scott is the one she can turn to and maybe, just maybe, find someone to share her grief with.

She stays silent and Calavera makes an example of her henchman, stabbing him with a small knife.

Lydia screams, she can't help it. Seeing people die in front of her is always raw and feels as if it's her fault.

Calavera is speaking but Lydia can't concentrate. What if the next one is Stiles? Kira? Scott? Malia? She can't let anyone else die.

_No more deaths. No more deaths. No more deaths_, she mentally chants to herself.

_We protect those who cannot protect themselves._

Allison had smiled at her when she said it.

* * *

Amidst the books and notebooks scattered on Allison's bed, she had turned to Lydia and called her name.

"Hey Lydia... Remember when I told you about my family? How the men are trained to be soldiers and the women to be leaders?"

"...", Lydia had quirked her eyebrow at Allison for her to go on.

"We have this sort of code we follow. To separate us from the werewolves. Anyway, for a while it was "we hunt those who hunt us", and look how that turned out...

But I thought we should change that, what with everything that has happened in the past few months, with you and with the pack", Allison looked at her warily, as if afraid the mere mention of it would affect Lydia.

Lydia slowly shrugged and smiled encouragingly. Allison was wide-eyed with worry, then she smiled back in return, visibly relaxing now that she was sure that Lydia wasn't affected.

"_Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger_", Allison softly said. Her eyes focused on Lydia.

"We protect those who cannot protect themselves."

Lydia had easily translated it, her voice breaking on the last word. She had looked down at her notes, the memory (of all the stupid deaths they could have done without) surfacing in her mind. No one needed to die. They were high school students for god's sake.

She had a plan once, to leave Beacon Hills and make a name for herself. But she got caught up in this complicated web of supernatural business and as much as she wanted to go back to normal stuff which she can easily manipulate and control, she knew that this was where she definitely belonged.

With the pack, unasked for but tied up to her nonetheless. At least she has friends now. Friends who know her enough to notice that she has started to shut into herself again.

"Yeah...", she murmured her assent.

Then Allison had reached out and held her hand, breaking her from her thoughts.

"_I'm going to protect you, Lydia_", she gave a reassuring squeeze. Her face earnest and filled with promise.

"You could always teach me to protect myself", Lydia scoffed to try and deflate the serious situation. But Allison just smiled at her, seeing through her facade.

Nodding, she had said," Yeah, I could teach you some stuff but I'm hoping you don't have to be in a situation that you need to apply them. _I'm here for you, Lydia._"

"Thanks, Allison. I'm here for you too."

* * *

She remembers Allison's shy smile and fond look. It's not much, just a memory, but she holds on to it.

_Allison._

_You didn't have to die._

_Allison._

_I'm sorry._

_I'm so sorry._

* * *

She's sitting in a small tiled room, trying to think of ways to escape when the door opens and she's roughly dragged up and pulled through a hallway. She tries to dig her heels in but the man just grips harder on her arm, causing her to wince and follow despondently until they stand facing a metal door.

It rolls open and there's someone seated backwards on a metal chair. Shoulders slumped and arms shackled to the metal frame.

Lydia gasps,"Oh god..."

It's Scott and that's when she notices the wires from the chair that winds on the floor. She cranes her neck, trying to see where it leads and subconsciously knowing what it means but she doesn't want to acknowledge it. Her eyes sting but she blinks a bit to make it go away. She tries to look around and see something to stop what's about to happen.

Calavera appears and proceeds to question Scott and that's when she sees Kira being held by another man. Kira looks worried-_it's not supposed to be this way_, Lydia wants to scream, because Kira shouldn't be worried, she's an immortal demon fox. Kira knows how to fight and survive. Lydia needs her to remember that.

But now Calavera is threatening Kira, telling her to turn the dial on Scott and Kira doesn't want to. She struggles and says no so Calavera turns to Lydia.

"...should we turn the dial on Lydia instead?", she threatens and before the last word is even out of her mouth, Scott is screaming no. He's begging for them to be let go but Calavera presses on, stating that he needs this to find out the truth about Derek's location.

A look of acceptance passes over Scott and he holds Kira's gaze to assure her that it's okay. _No it's not going to be okay_, Lydia wants to scream. But she bites down on her lip and tries to will her tears away, the burning in her eyes becoming unbearable.

Kira turns the dial and Scott screams.

He screams and screams and screams.

Lydia feels each scream sear into her bones. She tries to break free of her metal cuffs, knows it's chafing her skin but she has to break free. She has to stop them from hurting Scott. She has to-

_We protect those who cannot protect themselves._

Because even though Scott is an Alpha, a True Alpha, Lydia knows that strength is not an assurance of invincibility.

_Even the bravest could still die._

She struggles more and manages to drag her chair a bit to the side. Scott's piercing howl ringing in her ears.

The sound of tearing metal follows. The lights flicker and the next moment, Scott is free from the chair.

Scott looks up and with a guttural voice says, "Kate."

* * *

Malia takes up most of the backseat, leaving Lydia and Kira sitting uncomfortably beside her. She prattles on and on, asking Scott about what happened and when Scott mentions Kate, she jumps on the that topic too. She doesn't seem to notice the awkward silence in the jeep, Scott's hesitation to explain Kate and Lydia knows she's practically rolling off waves of irritation at Malia. It's a wonder how she doesn't seem to feel it.

So Lydia speaks up and tells them (_reminds them, someone should remind them of their friend-_) that Kate was Allison's aunt. It's the first time Allison's name is spoken in the vicinity of the current pack. Current pack-Stiles, Kira, Malia, Scott, and herself. Three supernaturals, two humans. Or make that three supernaturals, one human, and one (_unknown_) banshee.

She steals a look at Kira, _is she jealous? is this weird?_, but Kira is concentrating on the window, looking out for anything suspicious. Lydia turns back to her own window and tunes out the rest of the chatter.

Road trip, yey.

The last road trip was-

She shakes her head and sighs, blinks and sees faded motel bedspreads and a tub full of a sad boy and a safe, someone hiding under the bed muttering to himself, whispering voices from the vents.

Allison asking her what's wrong. Allison telling her she believed in Lydia.

* * *

Of course the jeep breaks down.

Murphy's Law and all that.

Scott leaves with Braeden and Lydia tries to help Stiles fix the jeep; Malia and Kira walking around and looking out for trouble that might come their way.

She tries to suggest leaving the jeep and following Scott on foot but Stiles interrupts her indignantly, saying that he won't leave his precious jeep behind.

Lydia rolls her eyes.

She looks at Malia and Kira and wishes-

_Sometimes the shape you take reflects the person you are._

Lydia touches her side and presses where she was bit. The scar is no longer raised but the phantom pain comes and goes. She wonders if she could have survived becoming a werewolf. She's not even sure if that would be the form she took but she'd like to think it would be.

Sometimes, she imagines being able to run fast, have enhanced strength and agility. Be self-assured and confident.

And being able to howl out into the night. A long howl that could clear everything in her mind, like when Scott howled for Stiles.

But all she can do is scream.

_Scream for death. Scream for ghosts. Scream for Allison, for Aiden, for Boyd, for Erica._

She bites down on her lip for a bit to stifle the need to scream. She closes her eyes and tries to empty her mind, taking in slow measured breaths to alleviate her mood.

_This is not the time nor the place_, she tells herself.

And if she doesn't want to scream because she wants to hold on to their memories? The bad, the good, and the worst?

Well, it's just something she keeps to herself.

_She's not ready to let go._

She opens her eyes and concentrates on the task at hand.


End file.
